The Forgotten Few
by BDrakesgurl
Summary: The X-Men are faced with a mutant holocaust that wishes to see them dead. Can they survive, without falling victim to the obstacles Fate throws in their path?
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Forgotten Few  
  
Author: Bdrakesgurl  
  
Summary: The X-Men are faced with a mutant holocaust that wishes to see them dead. Can they survive, without falling victim to the obstacles Fate throws in their path?  
  
Pairings: Logan/Marie, Storm/Hank, Gambit/other, Bobby/other  
  
Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel and Fox. Amy belongs to herself, and Jenn belongs to me.  
  
Author's Notes: Feedback to an author is like chocolate to a hormonal teenage girl.  
  
  
  
  
  
The year was 2019, a time when the powers that be, having declared mutant abilities unlawful, rounded up the country's Homo superior race and forced them to register. When the mutants answered with resistance, they were declared a nuisance to society, as well as a general threat to the succession of the United States. Sentinels, a new creation so advanced that even mutants had little resistance against them, were released into the world to gather those that tarnished the American nation. Unbeknownst to the public, the mutants gathered were taken to concentration camps, much more advanced than those seen in the Hitler era, where they were either terminated or put to work. To the public, the camps were seen as nothing more than safe havens for those who were different from the norm. A place where mutants could go and thrive together as their own independent nation of sorts. Such ideas couldn't be more wrong.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Not every member of the human race was oblivious to the beginnings of the holocaust. Many were willing to risk their own lives to ensure the safety of friends, as well as strangers, that were being punished for something they were born with. Marie and her friends were lucky to have found a family willing to hide them, at the risk of their own lives. After the Sentinel attack, the number of X-Men had dwindled greatly. Many were captured, and even more fled in hopes of reaching other countries before they were found out. The remains, five desolate people out of eighteen at least, lived in the attic of a friend who offered them aide. The conditions left much to be desired, though none would ever condemn their current surroundings. For the past five months, the four walls created their home, as well as their only defense against a world that wanted to see them exterminated.  
  
Huddled in the corner, Marie pulled her blanket tighter around herself, watching through jaded eyes as her four friends reminisced over memories of past missions. Several hushed whispers even spoke of Xavier's dream for a peaceful coinciding of mutants and humans. Instead, the world had taken his theory in a drastic turnabout, blaming them for the economic hardships the country faced. No one blamed the lavish extravagance that people had taken for granted for years, or any of the natural reasons why the country would be plunged into another depression. Nor did they take the time to remember the causes of past depressions, or what using one specific genre as a scapegoat had done to people. Instead, they turned every emotion they had on the Homo superiors, pointing rigid fingers in their direction, when in truth, the blame could just has easily have fallen on their own shoulders.  
  
"Anot'er game, mon ami?" Remy was already shuffling the cards for yet another game of poker, or black jack, or something meaningless that seemed to pass the time with little pleasure. They were running out of ways to amuse themselves, and were equally as quickly falling into the steady drip of depression that leaked into the room every time another night went by. With the depression came apprehension, and the knowledge that, though they were safe now, they would be too lucky to get away clean. There would come a time when their secrets would be revealed, each one of them knew it. Only, no one was brave enough to admit it, to himself, as well as his friends.  
  
"Deal me out, Cajun." Bobby spoke then, casting a glance in Marie's direction, and cracking a smile under the analyzing gaze she returned. When she'd first met him, the boy's eyes had been filled with hope and good humor. When the Registration Act was passed, and the Sentinels released, several of them had depended on that good humor to get them through the mental suffering their positions were pulling them through. Now, it was sapped dry, having spent too long with no hope and too much anxiety. In its place, despair reigned, though she knew he tried his best to conceal it from the others. Marie had never known him to be serious, but when Scott Summers was killed, Bobby Drake had done his best to pull the team together again. She admired the strength he had shown then, and wondered how long he had been so responsible. He was never truly taken seriously, until the five of them came to the decision that they would disappear into the small room, perhaps never to see the light of day again.  
  
"Suit y'self. Hank?" When the furry man shook his head briefly, Remy simply shrugged, stuck another cigarette into his mouth, and began to deal himself a round of Solitaire. The girl with the white streak laughed at that, for the game seemed to reflect his soul fairly well. She had never known him to work well with teams. He was generally good at acting on impulse, and acting for himself alone. The idea that his actions would affect others had greatly taken its toll on Gambit in the beginning. After training, though, he had learned to act as a unit, and that trusting others wasn't always dangerous.  
  
Marie jumped in surprise as Bobby sat himself down beside her. He offered another smile, which almost held a hint of amusement behind it. Then the smile faded and she was left to return the gesture with an equal lack of enthusiasm. When she shivered, he slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her into him, an action that she was too tired to deny him. Instead she rested there, staring at her feet, wondering how long exactly they'd all been there. The day the five of them had entered the room was hardly a day to forget. Each had a small satchel of thing they brought with them, and that was all. There was really no room for anything else, such as a bed, so they were left to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor. The heating for the house was done by fireplace, which left the attic sharply cold, causing the friends to rely on each other for warmth during the evenings when the temperatures dropped. Only Bobby Drake seemed inclined for the cold weather, but that was understandable, considering he was the Iceman. Gambit helped as well, using his powers to heat cards and occasionally start a small fire within the room. But the smoke had grown too noticeable then, and they'd had to abandon that luxury as well.  
  
No one really dared to use his or her mutant powers any longer. Marie was just grateful she had learned to control hers before all this had happened. In the tight spaces they had available to them, the ability to take in one's memories and powers with a single touch would have been dangerous. She was still cautious, though, despite her friends' assurance that they would be all right with it.  
  
"Nothing like a tragedy to bring us all together, huh?"  
  
Marie's lip curled up slightly as she nodded in agreement against the boy's chest. He slowly ran a hand through her hair, trying to comfort her, and succeeding, for the most part. To this comment, she had to let her eyes stray to the corner, where Hank and Ororo sat close together. One would think it harmless enough, a friendly gesture to ensure one another's comfort. The two had been close, after all, when the team was still assembled, and had to concentrate on easier things, such as mutants obsessed with running the world. After the deaths of several X-Men, though, the two really drew into each other, using their friendship as an emotional crutch of sorts. A way to avoid the harshness of reality.  
  
Bobby lifted his gaze to watch the two as well. Ororo seemed content to curl up against Henry McCoy, while the scientist in question jotted notes down in a journal. Whether they were his own thoughts on their present situation, or a new theory for relativity,  
  
Marie couldn't say. He wasn't the sort of man who spoke of himself often, which left the others to guess what he truly thought or felt, in some cases. "What're you thinking about, Marie?"  
  
The girl shrugged her shoulders, leaning back and using Bobby's lap as a sort of pillow, to stare at the ceiling.  
  
"Too much." He opened his mouth to retort, when the sounds of footsteps sounded on the stairway. Marie moved to sit up in alarm, but a firm had on her shoulder kept her in the position she was presently in. The others had heard as well, for Hank quietly shut his journal, while Gambit froze, hand still holding a single card over the rows of others. No one breathed for the space of at least a minute, while the slow ascent was made. At last, the intruder reached the attic and moved deliberately over to the door leading to their hiding spot. The moment Marie and the others heard the light tapping in the code they had decided on, they relaxed, and waited for the man to enter.  
  
Arnold Frank, friend to Charles Xavier, pushed aside the bookshelf that covered the doorway, and entered slowly, whispering a call of welcome. He brought with him a tray of steaming hot food, which the outcasts eyed hungrily. Setting that down so they could begin their meal, he also brought forth several blankets and even a few candles. "For the night, when it gets dark." They nodded in understanding, already shoveling the warm food into their mouths. With the Sentinels and other government agents constantly surveying the area, it was difficult for the man to buy enough food for his family as well as the five of them. That was why they had to eat every few days, saving pieces of meals to tide them over until the next tray of food could be brought. No one complained, for they all knew that it was better than starving in concentration camps.  
  
"Any news?" Always the gentleman, Bobby waited to eat until he was sure Marie and Ororo had gotten their fill. Instead, he concentrated on the small man before them that posed as their present day savior. He shook his head slightly, with a small, exasperated sigh, in answer.  
  
"Nothing of great importance." For a moment, he disappeared out the door, only to return with a stack of books, more paper, and a few pens. On top of that, he handed Bobby a small pile of newspapers that constituted as their only clue to the outside world and its happenings. The blond boy took them eagerly, spreading the pages out to look them over instantly. He needed some kind of connection to the lives being lead outside the walls.  
  
"Give Remy de sports, homme." Graciously, Bobby peeled that section aside, handing it to the Cajun, to feed his sports obsession.  
  
The weather section was given to Ororo, and the Science area eagerly disposed of into Hank's possession. Marie stole the Arts section, and, though he knew it necessary, Bobby detained from reading the  
  
Local and World articles, and settled instead on the daily comics.  
  
"I haven't given anyone reason to suspect me of treason. You all should be safe until this blows over." Tight smiles were offered to the man, who gave a weary nod in response before taking the empty tray and leaving the room. When the door was shut and locked, and the footsteps started their descent once again, the others relaxed and engulfed themselves in their readings. 


	2. Chapter 2

Though his eyes were slow to open, the rest of his body was already at full attention, senses reeling at the new sensations presented to him. Deciding to keep his eyes closed for the time being, he worked to move every part of him, feeling stiff, as though he'd been unable to move for a large amount of time.  
  
He began with his hands, bending each finger in turn, before slowly drawing them into a fist. When the first hand was successful with the task, he set to work on the other, and soon had both hands flexing simultaneously. His mind still felt groggy, though, as if he was still in the throes of a deep sleep, which made the actions sluggish and weak. Moving his toes and bending each of his knees, the man determined that everything was in full working order. Coaxing his eyes open, he found himself staring at a metal ceiling, only a foot or so from his face. His back ached fiercely, due to the uncomfortably solid mattress that supported him. Swinging his legs slowly, he gripped the bed and pushed himself forward, landing skillfully on his feet. Turning, he saw that he had been atop a bunk bed, and that it was occupied on the bottom by another man, currently dressed in uniform and sleeping deeply.  
  
Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he tried to bring forth memories of what had happened to him prior to his being there.  
  
Unfortunately, there was nothing but a black, empty void that kept him from drawing any thoughts of his past to him. Frowning in frustration, he rubbed the bridge of his noise and attempted something simple, like his name. When his thoughts didn't offer any aid, he turned to the mirror in the room where he was and looked at himself. He too was clad in a uniform, which had a white strip sewn into it with the word "Logan" embroidered on it. Unable to come up with any other solution, he decided it best to assume that that was his name.  
  
Disgusted by the mess he saw before him in the mirror, Logan bent painfully forward, pausing a moment to reach a large hand back long enough to rub at the stabbing pain in his shoulder, before turning on the faucet and washing his face. Slightly surprised to see shaving cream and a razor there, Logan took both and set to tame the wild tangle of a beard that had grown in since he'd last been awake.  
  
By the time he had finished his early morning rituals, another form had silently moved in front of his door and presently watched him. Logan, though he didn't know how or why, had sensed the other man's presence long before he actually had arrived. Shrugging it off as momentary intuition, Logan turned his attention from the sink to the door and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to enter and offer him some explanations.  
  
The stranger's lips pulled into a smile that almost made  
  
Logan shudder. A moment later, the door to his room opened, and a hand gestured for him to follow. Taking one last look over his shoulder at the room, Logan decided following proposed a far better outlook than remaining in the room did.  
  
After walking down several hallways that looked almost identical, the man before him stopped and held open a door for him.  
  
Glaring suspiciously to let the man know Logan wasn't one to be played for a fool, he moved into the room and sat himself down on one of the many seats available and waited for some kind of explanation.  
  
The wait was brief, much to his liking, as the man sat imperialistically before him. "I do not doubt you have questions,  
  
Logan. I'm here to see to it you get the answers you are looking for." Despite the momentary lack of trust, Logan nodded at the man, understanding where he was coming from and, for the time being, believing what he had to say.  
  
"What am I doing here? And why can't I remember anything?"  
  
"You came to us, Logan, wanting to be drafted in our army. You fit our requirements perfectly, yet, something went wrong during one of the tests. To this day we aren't sure of the details, except that whatever has happened to you put you into an amnesiac coma. Actually, you've surprised us all. We didn't expect you to recover as quickly as you have. Nor did we anticipate a recovery without any physical or mental side effects." Sitting, unmoving, for a few moments, Logan let his eyes pierce the man's across from him, trying to decipher the truth of his words. Normally, he was good at picking up on lies. If that were still the case, then the man was being completely honest with him. Still, a piece of him wanted to remain unsure, so as to expect anything that might happen in the future.  
  
"What kind of army did I sign up for?" This part seemed genuine, considering the bits he did remember of himself included the enjoyment he got from fighting.  
  
"An Anti-Mutant army. The President issued the need for it some time ago, when the mutant population in the United States attempted a revolution of sorts after the Registration Act passed. The government was quick to pull such a necessary defensive army together, to keep the unruly masses from succeeding. We took the best of the best and...equipped them with weapons that would easily defeat even the strongest of mutants."  
  
"What kind of weapons?" Any real man was quick to pick up an interest in weaponry, and he was no exception.  
  
"Each individual man had a weapon of sorts surgically implanted in them. If you flex your arm muscles slightly, you should see what I mean." The moment he did so, three long, deadly looking claws jumped from his knuckles with a slicing noise. Logan flinched at first, the burning sensation almost overwhelming. But then the pain was gone, and he was left to turn his hands in several directions and admire the metal that was obviously fatal to anyone who should meet with them firsthand. "We suspect the surgery may have been what caused your blackout."  
  
Despite the feeling of being violated, Logan suspected he had been told the risks before the surgery, and therefore couldn't blame anyone but himself. "When the ground crew was found to be...insufficient for gathering mutants, we turned to the latest technology and created the Sentinels." With the push of a button, a small hologram protruded onto the man's desk. A small figure which was in all truth no more than a glorified robot, turned this way and that to show off every feature it possessed. "They have the reflexes and abilities to catch even the craftiest mutants."  
  
"So, if you have them, why do you need men like me?" If their creation was as powerful as it was being presented to be, there shouldn't be a need for ground men any longer. The Sentinels should have the force necessary to collect the remaining mutants on their own.  
  
"Lately, the media has gotten a handle on the story. It seems a small group of mutant supporters has banded together to form the true explanation of what is going on with the Homo superiors. They've turned our Sentinels into mutant seeking monsters, and will, if given the chance, cause the public to turn against our organization, and possibly our government."  
  
"So you need something smaller, something inconspicuous to go around town and gather up the outlaw mutants that didn't register, right?" The man before him grinned and gave a brief nod of his head.  
  
"That is correct. The rest of the mutant evacuation process must be done as a more undercover job."  
  
"What do you do with them once they're out of the public eye?"  
  
"Though it's not normally our manner to explain this to soldiers like yourself, I see no harm in telling you. Generally, they are brought to smaller communities along the coastline, where they can live together in a peaceful coexistence, unlike their lives among normal humans. We are only doing what is best for them." Pausing a moment, the man leaned closer to Logan, templing his hands and preparing to give Logan a speech he was sure many others had heard before. "And it'd be to your benefit, to consider remaining with our cause."  
  
"My benefit?" Those words had always caused Logan to hear out whatever the other person had to say. "How so?" Leaning back in his chair to get comfortable, Logan waited for a long list of things that they would use to tempt him to remain with them. And, if they were as encouraging as they were being made out to be, he might just consider accepting.  
  
"Your task is relatively simple. You've been trained, and will be further trained, as a sort of spy. You will listen to the rumors and investigate any that appear to have truth behind them, and even those that don't, if you see it fit to do so. Many mutant supporters house them in their very homes, within hidden rooms in their houses, in attics, anywhere they see it possible to do so without being caught. A man of your intelligence and skill should have no problem in that area."  
  
"Yeah, I get all that. What I want to know is, what do I get in return?" He didn't care about the actual job. Short of suicide missions, Logan was one to take whatever challenge was offered him. The only thing that ever interested him was that which helped himself.  
  
"What do you want?" He must have looked surprised, for the man laughed and sat back in his regal chair. "Logan, we are not cheap here. I realize the want list of every man in this facility is long, and fairly expensive. But our organization is ready to fulfill anything that will help our cause become successful. You help us, we'll help you." Pulling a small stack of papers from his desk, the man set them before Logan, offering a pen as well. "Sign with us, and you won't have to pay for anything for the rest of your life."  
  
Not one to be stupid, Logan did read over the contract, to be sure he knew what he was up against. Everything seemed legit, though, so with a half grin in the other man's direction, Logan lowered his head and signed the paper. When the formalities were completed, the two stood to their feet and looked at one another. "If you will follow me to the door, Logan, we shall meet with Lieutenant McCormack, who will take you to your new living arrangements. Once you are situated, you are to go out and begin your search. Remember, you are to inform me the minute you have a lead." With a brief nod, Logan turned and left the room, following McCormack to a small jeep located just outside the building.  
  
Back inside, the man who had dealt with Logan watched out the window with a small grin. Another man entered shortly after, obviously curious as to what had transpired earlier. "Sir?"  
  
"He has taken the bait as I suspected he would. The mind wipe has erased everything, but most importantly, his knowledge of his own mutant heritage. He's taken his own kind to be his only enemy."  
  
"He agreed, then? With no...persuading?"  
  
"On the contrary. The medication made him quite...agreeable."  
  
The smile that passed over the man's lips was truly sinister as he moved out of the room, the click of his boots against the metal hallway echoing after his retreat. 


	3. Chapter 3

After having been forced to live in such refined quarters for so long, the five friends living in the small attic room had learned to co- exist pleasantly, with little to no squabbling. It was true, however, that having five distinctly varying personalities did tend to cause mild irritations. For the most part, though, they banded together to offer each other support during the trials they were currently facing.  
  
Much had to be given up in the name of survival. Each had nasty habits that tended to grate on others nerves so much so, that there was little choice but to refrain from them altogether. The first to be acknowledged was Gambit's smoking, which did seem the worst of the lot. Though he could not entirely put away the addiction, he did promise to lower the daily smokings to times when it seemed absolutely necessary.  
  
Still, after having to remain silent for most of the day in fear of being found out by those workers which moved around just below them, the friends graciously accepted each others words when the clock struck seven and the laborers below departed to their own, safe homes. Henry McCoy often amused them with fascinating sciences and philosophies that provided the rest of them with ideas enough to entertain themselves when needing to be still. Ororo Monroe, resident  
  
Goddess, retold tales of a life long ago lived, in the majestic country of Africa, where very little was imprisoned. Likewise, the thief threw in a few of his own personal recounts of tight situations that he had, at once, feared he would not have survived. In comparison, the impersonal war which waged about around them seemed at such a distance that they sometimes failed to believed it to be occurring at all!  
  
Marie remained silent for most of the day, keeping to her thoughts and, instead, listening to the others, and watching their gestures as they spoke. Despite the small quarters, and the sad situation that seemed never- ending, the others remained animated throughout their story telling, even portraying a sense of hope that  
  
Marie feared had long since died within her.  
  
On one such day, Marie awoke to find Bobby noisily bustling about the apartment room, where the others, as she herself had been but a moment ago, still remained asleep. He shot her a small smile, before continuing with his secretive work that he would offer her no part of, for the time being.  
  
When the others awoke, he finally revealed that which had brought a smile to his otherwise barren, worn features. "Merry  
  
Christmas, everyone!" The proclamation took everyone aback, for they hadn't realized, for some time, just how long they had been in the small room together. They had entered into it the third week in  
  
February of 2018, and already it was December of 2019. More than a year had passed since they had gathered the remains of the family they once knew and stowed away, leaving the public several letters and hints to imply that they had successfully fled to another country.  
  
"Goddess, has it been so long?" Ororo's tender eyes looked upon Hank in curious wonder, trying to find an explanation as to why the time had moved by so quickly, yet dragged on so slowly at the same time.  
  
"It appears," the furry genius beside her added, while flipping through the contents of his notebook. "That our Frosty friend is correct." He leaned slightly closer, so as to offer her a view to his very organized, and strictly dated journal.  
  
"To think, de five of us have been t'gether dat long. An'  
  
wit'out wantin' t'kill one another. Mus' be some kind of record, non?"  
  
"The X-Men have always done well in situations where the odds are against them." Bobby finished putting up the last of the meager decorations that their friend from the outside world had dropped off earlier that morning, while the others slept. "Anyone for presents?" Grinning slightly at the sight of bewilderment on the others' faces, he dropped to sit beside Marie, holding a hand up to silence any oncoming questions. "They aren't from me." Indeed, they were quick to find that the gifts were from Arnold Frank.  
  
Bobby knew there was no way they could ever repay the man for all that he was doing for them. Newspaper articles daily exposed the consequences of aiding runaway and wanted mutants, and feared a day when they themselves would be made an example of. Still, the morale of himself and the others had been slowly deteriorating, being replaced by the chilling dread that the war between man and mutant would continue on for an ungodly length.  
  
Marie took the small box with her name scribbled onto the newspaper wrapping and smiled, turning it over without actually opening it. The sudden gratefulness for the man who came daily to see to it their needs were attended to overwhelmed her, and salty tears welled in her eyes, causing the scratched word "Marie" to blur before her. Many a night had she gone to bed, wondering if their safe hold would likely be their grave? Such an act of kindness was greatly appreciated by the five fugitives, and by Marie especially.  
  
All hesitated to open the gifts, thinking it better, perhaps, to leave them for another time when their world seemed more in peril.  
  
Tucking the boxes back under the mini tree that had been made out of old newspaper clippings and wire, the friends moved closer together, rubbing their arms and trying to ignore the sight of their breath before them. "Hey, Hankster, help me out here, would you?"  
  
Hank got up on hind legs and made his way over to where Bobby was currently fumbling with several baskets and trays. He helped the young boy set them down in the middle of everyone, before taking his esteemed place beside Ororo once again. Quirking an awkward smile, Bobby looked at his fellow teammates and current family, before glancing back at the food. "How about...uh...Hank? Would you mind saying a blessing or something?" The intellect nodded briefly, before taking the hands of his neighbors. When the others had done the same, he bend his head and closed his eyes and thanked God, whom he hoped was still looking out for them through all of this.  
  
Once the prayer had been finished, the group unceremoniously dove into the rationed, yet plentiful amount of food that lay before them. The country, being at war, both with itself and with neighboring countries, had to ration the food to the best of their abilities, without starving its inhabitants. To do so, they generally distributed slips of paper constituting as food rationing. Arnold  
  
Frank had been successful in trading their mutant rationing cards for normal, acceptable ones, thanks to the help of an underground organization that slowly, yet determinedly, planned the overthrow of those against mutants.  
  
Marie ate slowly, knowing it would be best if they saved as much as possible for days ahead when Mr.Frank might not be able to bring them food. Instead she settled her gaze among the people she had come to love as brothers and sisters. Despite the outer hatred for them, and the need to be isolated from everything they once held dear, her friends were able to push past that concept and continue life with some semblance of normalcy. It wasn't a grand Christmas, like those she vaguely remembered celebrating in the past, but it was the most touching she would ever live through. Though her native country had come to despise all that she was, these four friends of hers would stay by her side, through thick and thin. That was truly something worth celebrating. 


	4. Chapter 4

"You Arnold Frank?" To his credit, the small man before Logan remained calm, nodding silently in affirmation. His features gave away no secret he may currently be hiding.  
  
Of course, over the past months, Logan had faced countless situations that played out similarly to the way this current conversation so moved. In the end, Logan had always outsmarted each and every suspect, succeeding only in making themselves even more of a fugitive. "You ever hear of the X- Men?" Raising an eyebrow in question, Logan could have grinned outright at how well the man was playing it cool.  
  
"They've all disappeared," offered the small man. Or been killed, Logan added silently. Still, there was rumored a group of the remaining X- Men having made their escape to Canada. Despite all the obvious clues to support this fact, Logan still found the evidence too clean to be taken seriously. And so, despite strong urgings against it, Logan took it upon himself to find these supposed "escapees."  
  
"Then, you knew them?"  
  
"Knew OF them. Everyone did. They caused our city a lot of damage, which cost us quite a lot of money and time." Logan was surprised that Arnold Frank was able to say the last with a suitable tone of bitterness. Somehow though, he knew it was as fake as everything else about this man appeared to be.  
  
"So you weren't really a fan?" Logan knew for a fact that the man was a mutant sympathizer, he could smell it on him, but it was more entertaining to hear the lies his prey came up with. Before approaching the man, Logan had found it better to stay a few steps behind the man in public, and observe. That was the key to his job...observation. Too many times, people's actions give them away.  
  
They might as well scream out their guilt, what with the way they carried themselves around others.  
  
Furthermore, the Anti-Mutant Organization he worked for had current files on everyone in the country, and even a select few out of the country. Despite not having clearance, Logan had... "persuaded" those above him to let him search through the files, when he'd first spotted Frank and heard the rumors about his harboring mutants. The information confirmed that he had once been friends with Charles Xavier, who ran a school for "gifted" children.  
  
In other words, he housed mutants, and was one himself.  
  
"I was impartial, and remain so to this day." Fumbling with his armload of groceries, Arnold Frank attempted to step past Logan, only to be stopped a moment later by a large, stiff arm.  
  
"In this day and age, pal, having no view is just about as bad as having the wrong view." To this, Arnold had no reply. He only looked at Logan with blank, empty eyes. It didn't take a genius to realize that he was being sized up. The moment he received such a look, a plan had begun to formulate in his mind. A plan that, for no reason at all, suddenly struck Logan's fancy.  
  
"I assure you," the man said at last, standing straight and proud while clutching his packages. "I am loyal to my country." Logan smirked inwardly, but remained solemn on the outside. He needed to earn this man's trust if his plan was to succeed.  
  
"Then you'll let me speak freely?" At last, he drew forth a reaction: curiosity. Such an emotion was dangers-especially to the feeble-minded. It invaded one's conscious and defeated all forms of reason until you forfeited logic for all else. Of course, to the hunter, curiosity was an added tool that always seemed to work for his benefit.  
  
"No one speaks freely anymore. Come with me." He briefly looked every which way, before walking down the crowded streets.  
  
Logan, chuckling slightly to himself, very much enjoying his new game, stuffed frozen hands into pockets before stepping off the curb and into the street to follow. Cars weren't allowed out at that point, and many people were already scurrying to make it home before curfew. Logan alone continued on with a loping walk and an air that revealed how little he cared for rules.  
  
Always keeping an eye on the man who was his current victim, the rugged man thought on his latest stint of creativity. It wasn't his style to get too involved with those he was about to turn over to the authorities. Generally, he picked up on rumors, did a little research to find even a sliver of truth-as truth held little importance in Logan's eyes. Once he had an idea that someone may be harboring the unlawful, he pretty much butted into their lives, proclaimed his knowledge, and watched as they were collared and carried away.  
  
In a way it was rewarding, seeing the people who had once been so hopeful fall to their knees and beg him for help. He reveled in it, sometimes offering a glint of forgiveness before alerting the Organization of his latest find. A piece of him, though, deep inside, felt himself to be a coward, and worse. He sold other people's lives away, just to earn a comfortable living for a little while.  
  
Then, just as quickly as the thought would appear, it'd be gone, leaving Logan to enjoy his occupation, and seek out more mutants to bust. Every job he did brought him something he had always thought he wanted. Then, when he'd receive it, the satisfaction he thought he'd feel would disappear. This, in turn, usually caused him to set out to work again, because as long as he worked, he wasn't the only one hurting. There was always someone that would be worse off than himself. 


	5. Chapter 5

"You sure it's safe here?" Taking a sweeping look around the building, Logan saw nothing but four decrepit walls that could generally shake under natural pressures at any given moment. The cold from the winter that still clung to the state of New York filtered in through the countless cracks in the walls, as well as the window that had been carelessly boarded up.  
  
"As safe as one can be in this city. I assure you, these walls do not talk." Arnold Frank set the paper bags onto his wobbly table before opening the refrigerator. "Please, continue." Pulling out a chair that didn't seem too ready to hold his weight, Logan simply rested against it and watched silently for a few moments as the man disposed of his food into the altogether too empty refrigerator. He was old, probably in his sixties or so, from the way his remaining hair was now tinted white. His face was soft, almost kind, yet held beneath its surface lines of frustration and nervousness. Such things Logan hadn't noticed at first glance on the street.  
  
"Why should I trust you?"  
  
"I can't tell you that. When the city I once knew so well becomes estranged to me, I find it difficult for trust to dwell anywhere anymore. I can tell you I am trustworthy, that I won't speak a word. But only I know for sure whether I am telling the truth, no?"  
  
With that, to Logan's surprise, the man actually laughed, or wheezed rather, what with the cold obviously playing upon his health.  
  
"I need a place to hide." He was sure to say it with a tone that was serious, honest, and genuinely nervous all at once. For some reason, he had been given the gift of deceit, not something he was always too proud of. "I don't know what happened t'me...i've been unconscious for longer than I can remember. All I know is, when I woke up..."  
  
Logan raised a fist, seeing the man's obvious need for proof, and released from their holding the six adamantium claws that had been given to him to 'make him more sufficient.' "I had these."  
  
The contemplative frown, which passed over the man's visage made Logan wonder, only for a moment, if he had the wrong guy after all. There were serious hints, such as the terrible condition of his home, his poor health, and other things, which would suggest that he was not capable of housing runaways. He was tempted to give up his hunt, when he saw the man begin to nod. It was brief at first, then stronger, as though more reassured, after a few passing moments.  
  
"I can help you."  
  
"What'll it cost? I can pay-"  
  
"I don't need money. It...it hasn't ever been a problem for me." The man walked over to a cupboard, everything down to his bones appearing to shake from exhaustion. Still, frail hands, that Logan felt should break under any sort of effort, pulled a slip of paper out from behind some dishes, before he turned to face him again. "This is a list of things you will need. I can get you a rations ticket, but it isn't necessary. I have enough ways of getting food necessary to feed the others."  
  
"Others?" Finally, the man had revealed the secret Logan had really been going for. His primary goal, having heard of the X-Men and their apparent disappearance, was to find those remaining and take them into custody. He saw it as a kind of trophy, something he could flash into the face of his employers if he ever needed something they were reluctant to hand over.  
  
"Yes. Five others. You're to share the area with them."  
  
Obviously, Logan looked skeptical, for the man offered a small smile before an explanation. "The hidden rooms aren't as small as you would think. There's little room for furniture, thus why the sleeping bag is in order." Logan glanced down at the list that he had unconsciously taken from the man before spotting the object among various others. "There is a ladder leading upstairs to another area, but that is where the food is kept. We will straighten things out so that there is room for you there. The conditions are cramped, but I'm sure it will be better to you than any concentration camp would."  
  
"When?" He was anxious, but at the same time, decided not to inform his employers of his find just yet. He thought he'd go into the building and meet these five runaways. Five. The same number of X-Men that apparently disappeared not more than a year ago. Logan grinned to himself and wondered if perhaps he had finally found a lucky streak.  
  
"I will need at least a day to clear the room." To this,  
  
Logan nodded in understanding, before folding the tiny slip of paper and stuffing it away in his pocket. "And to speak to the others.  
  
I must also tell you, there is a certain routine that must be followed while you are in the rooms."  
  
"Shoot." Logan choked back the need to laugh at how decidedly humorous the situation was. It was ironic, of course, that the man had no idea about Logan's true self, while he knew everything this man had been doing for at least a year now, perhaps longer. He felt like he was shouting out to the other man that he was a fake, that he was not to be trusted, and that the other man simply didn't have the ears to hear it.  
  
"The rooms are in an old factory warehouse. People still work there to this day, myself included. That is why, from the hours of seven in the morning to noon, there is to be absolute silence.  
  
Rustling of any kind will be distinctly heard through the ceiling. At noon, the laborers break for lunch, often times departing for home.  
  
Whether they stay or not, there will be enough noise that you will be able to move around freely without the chance of being discovered."  
  
"Absolute silence. Great." The idea momentarily upset Logan.  
  
He wasn't too keen on the idea of having to sit around and stare at four wooden walls for an odd amount of hours in the day. Still, if he wanted this kill bad enough, which he did, he would have to endure it.  
  
"At two o'clock, the workers return, and silence reigns once more until nine thirty, when they are dismissed and the building is deserted. Then, you may leave the rooms and...do your business, but you must be back in with all lights out at eleven, which is the curfew."  
  
"Alright...I got it. Basically, I just sit around and sleep all day. No noise whatsoever."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Day after tomorrow?" Logan had already pushed the chair he had held aside, and was moving to the door, figuring he had heard all that was necessary.  
  
"Yes. Don't bring anything that's not on that list. There's little room as it is. We shall meet at the factory, after the curfew hour and the nightly search is finished. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yeah, I hear ya." Before the man could pull another lecture on him, Logan pulled the door open and stepped out into the snow.  
  
Behind him, he felt, rather than saw, the remaining lights in the house go off, before he heard the creaking of someone walking up the stairs. Stepping quickly away from the house, Logan pulled out the piece of paper with the list of necessities written on it. Looking them over, he suddenly crumpled the paper between his fingers, and dropped the wad into the remaining snow. "Child's play." 


	6. Chapter 6

Marie had never seen Bobby as furious as he was just then, what with the way his face was a deep shade of red and how he was constantly pacing the floor. "Bobby, sit down, before you wear a hole in the rug." He shot her a glare, before reflexively wincing and apologizing for his actions.  
  
"I can't help it..." Still, he did as she said, sinking onto his bottom, back against the wall. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he looked over at the others, none of which seemed any more pleased about their latest news as he was. "You talked to him for what...five minutes?" Angry as he was, he had to resort to harsh whispers to get his emotions across, as yelling would certainly have attracted attention.  
  
"He's a mutant...there's no doubt, Robert. Why would a mutant set out with the intention of hurting his brothers and sisters?"  
  
"You can't trust anyone in this society anymore...it isn't safe!"  
  
"Robert," The gentle Goddess leaned over and patted his hand to comfort him. "What if he hadn't trusted the man, and what he said were true? We cannot turn others away because we have been mistreated. It is still our duty, as the remaining X-Men, to do all that we can for those like us. As well as those who are different."  
  
The new "leader" of the X-Men blushed slightly at the small scolding he received and nodded his head.  
  
"I understand that...and I sympathize...but lately the Anti-  
  
Mutant Organization has-"  
  
"Been relatively quiet, so say the papers." Henry McCoy now spoke up, feeling it necessary to defend their latest roommate.  
  
"There's always a calm before the storm. Am I right? They may need to be quiet now, to regain the public's favor, but that doesn't stop them from acting underground. Any number of actions against us could be in the works as we speak. How do we know this man isn't a spy? They have been known to send out ground crew to retrieve "fugitives" like us."  
  
"That may be true, but that's a chance we're going to have to take. If he is what you think, then maybe spending a few days with us will turn him off his original course. Remember what Xavier said?  
  
Even your worst enemies can be swayed to become your best alliance.  
  
If these "spies" are out there, maybe they are just being misinformed about mutants. In which case, it only takes one of us to set him straight." Marie looked at him sincerely, offering the words he didn't want to hear, but knowing he had to hear them.  
  
"She got a poin', homme...De guy deserves a chance, jus' like anyone else." Bobby Drake raised his eyes from the hands he had used to cover his face and looked intently at each of his friends. This wasn't something he could or would take lightly. The situation at hand called for serious thought, something he was not well averse in. Times like these made him wish that Cyclops was still around, considering the leader always seemed to know when something was a bad idea.  
  
Intuition had always been the way to go, in Bobby's eyes. It had yet to fail him, since he had come to lead the X-men through hard times. Still, if he were to follow it, and be wrong...a man's life hung in the balance. Something he had never dealt with before.  
  
Everyone else seemed to be in agreement over the matter, yet they still left him with the final say. Such respect was nice, for once, and he wanted to be sure he never acted in such a way as to lose their respect. Letting out a deep breath, he finally turned to Arnold Frank again. "When will he be here?"  
  
"Tomorrow evening, after curfew. We need to move the food to one side of the upstairs room, if you're to have any room for him."  
  
"No..." Bobby stood to his feet, brushing off his pants even though there was nothing on them, just to give his hands something to do. "I'll clear the place out and move up there myself." The rest he didn't have to say, and that was that this way, the stranger would be amongst them as much as possible, and therefore unable to plan anything without their knowing about it.  
  
"That's very generous of you." Bobby cracked a small smile, almost chuckling because, it really had nothing to do with generosity. He just wanted to stay alive to see this war end. No spy or Anti-Mutant member was going to ruin that dream for him.  
  
A few moments later, while the girls slipped out to prepare for bed, Arnold Frank excused himself, saying he needed to return home as quickly as possible. Bobby shook his hand and called good-bye before turning his attention to the food storage area that was to be his new room. It was colder there, he imagined, what with the lack of body heat to make things more comfortable, which made it rather appropriate that the Iceman take it over.  
  
Pushing cans and loaves of bread aside, he managed a neat enough stack, though it was an act he performed without much conscious thought. He was gripped with fear and apprehension, despite how he hid that from the rest of the members in the room. So distraught was he that, when Marie's hand fell lightly upon his shoulder, he jumped.  
  
"Hey...just me." Quirking a small smile, she sat down, legs dangling onto the ladder, and watched as he continued stacking the food. "You did the right thing..."  
  
"I hope so." He doubted he'd ever be really sure one way or the other as to the stranger he was allowing to integrate into their close knit lives.  
  
"It'll be a good experience, I think..." Marie always managed to make things positive, no matter what the situation was. It seemed to him as though all his carefree, optimistic moods slipped from him and seeped into her when he needed to assume some responsibility in life. Now it was she that made sure the others remained upbeat when things started to get tough. He wished, at that moment more than ever before, that he could be that way again.  
  
"If things work out, it will be."  
  
"They will. You'll see." Tossing the can she had taken into her hands at some point back to Bobby, she threw him another smile before beginning her descent down the ladder and back into the main room of the hidden hallway.  
  
"Hey, Marie?" She stopped then, eyes sparkling slightly from the usage of her real name. No one else called her that, as it didn't seem appropriate. But he, having been there through the hardest parts of her life, had been given the permission to use her real name, while all others continued to refer to her as Rogue.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thanks." A lot was behind that one word, for he owed a great deal to her when he thought about it. She was always the one talking sense into him when he got carried away with himself. They weren't a couple, as many people thought, yet they were more. Close friends that went beyond the call of such a title, doing more than was required of themselves, to ensure that one another were well taken care of.  
  
"Don't mention it." With a playful wink, she disappeared entirely, and Bobby turned back to his work a little more hopeful than he had been when he started out on his task. By the time he finished cleaning up the room and setting up his sleeping bag, the others were already asleep, having blown out the candle that provided their only light. Lying down atop the sleeping bag, Bobby looked up at the ceiling and tried to imagine the stars he was faintly sure were hanging there in the sky at that very moment. Reassuring himself once again that things would be okay for the five of them, he shut his eyes, and gratefully drifted off to sleep. 


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't like him. Watching Marie sit, back against the  
  
wall, chatting away with Logan while the laborers downstairs made the  
  
noise that permitted her to do so freely, Bobby found himself  
  
constantly wringing his hands in irritation. It had been no longer  
  
than two hours, and already he feared that bringing this stranger  
  
into the apartment had been a fatal mistake.  
  
The first instance of doubt struck the moment Marie  
  
introduced the group as the "X-Men." He had warned the others not to  
  
mention any piece of information that might aid in his cause, should  
  
he truly be a spy. He was further discomforted by the grin that  
  
flitted across the man's face as his eyes fell on everyone for the  
  
first time, after such an introduction.  
  
Still, Bobby decided to give the man the benefit of a doubt,  
  
and pointed out to himself the fact that he may simply be jealous.  
  
Hank had Storm, Gambit pointedly reminded him almost everyday that he  
  
didn't need anyone, and Marie, greatly missing the outside world, had  
  
taken to talking to the stranger almost constantly for as long as  
  
he'd resided. Though he never thought of her as more than a friend,  
  
Bobby still found himself uncomfortable with the thought that Marie  
  
had abandoned his companionship for this man, with his superior air  
  
and gruff exterior.  
  
Of course, for the good of the team, or what was left of it  
  
at least, he pushed his feelings aside, concentrating on the good of  
  
the whole, even if it meant abandoning the best interest of the  
  
individual. He, pulling himself from his attic room down to the main  
  
room with the others, attempted to show interest in the facts about  
  
this Logan that Marie instantly bombarded at him. While "listening,"  
  
he chanced a brief glance at Gambit, who returned a look of annoyance  
  
before waving a hand in a "c'est la vie" manner and returning to his  
  
solo card game.  
  
With Hank and Ororo reading together in the corner as usual,  
  
and Marie building a new, better friendship by the moment, he was  
  
torn between joining Gambit and altogether paying as little attention  
  
to the man next to Marie as possible and joining her, just to learn  
  
as much about him as he possibly could, to finally settle the rousing  
  
doubts in his mind. At last, he did just that, grabbing an apple from  
  
the food storage before sitting himself next to Marie. "Hi. We  
  
weren't formally introduced. I'm Bobby Drake." Resisting the urge to  
  
offer only a small nod of greeting, Bobby did the mature, adult thing  
  
and offered a hand, which, after a moment or two, was taken and given  
  
a firm shake.  
  
"Logan."  
  
"Good to meet you." Turning the apple he held slightly in his  
  
grasp, he felt Marie give an appreciative glance his way, knowing she  
  
was almost surprised that he had resolved to be polite. "So,  
  
Logan...how did you manage to hold out so long without hiding?"  
  
With a heavy shrug of his large shoulders, Logan looked away  
  
from Marie and settled his gaze on Bobby, which he was none too happy  
  
about. "I have my ways." Squirming slightly under the piercing  
  
analization Logan put him through, Bobby dropped his eyes, nodding  
  
briefly in understanding, before seemingly transferring all his  
  
interest to the little piece of fruit he held in the palm of his  
  
hand. "How'd you manage to convince an entire nation that you'd  
  
disappeared?"  
  
"We have our ways." Peering up through the blond locks that  
  
fell over his eyes, Bobby caught sight of Logan a moment, before  
  
nervously quirking his trademark grin. The same grin he offered, a  
  
lifetime ago, to any person who should fall victim to his usual round  
  
of pranks. What surprised him this time, though, was that, after a  
  
moment's hesitation, Logan offered the grin back. Such an action,  
  
presumably unnatural for a man like the one sitting in front of him,  
  
momentarily laxed his judgment, causing him to put down his guard  
  
and listen to Marie ask numerous curious questions of him, which he  
  
either answered gracefully, or grunted and changed the topic.  
  
"So...you got a girlfriend anywhere?" Bobby chuckled at the  
  
surprised look on Logan's face before elbowing Marie slightly and  
  
giving her a warning look. "What! It was just an innocent question."  
  
With that, he watched her cock her head to one side, as he'd seen her  
  
do countless times before, and knew that she was taken with this  
  
stranger. Whether that was because he was actually someone a girl  
  
like her could be attracted to, or simply because he was something  
  
new in an otherwise mundane lifestyle, he couldn't be sure. All he  
  
knew was, pretty soon she'd be pouring on the charm and pulling her  
  
innocent-yet-seductive act on him, like she had a few boys back at  
  
school. It was all innocent enough, which didn't lead Bobby to worry  
  
any. Nothing serious could come of it after all, right?  
  
By the end of the evening, any doubts Bobby Drake had about  
  
Logan drifted into the back of his mind, what with the way he clearly  
  
answered every question, with the exception of a few personal  
  
questions Marie shot his way. Of course, it never occurred to Bobby to  
  
think that perhaps the answers were given just a little too  
  
confidently, and a little too perfectly. As far as he knew, Logan was  
  
as trustworthy as any of the others present, and definitely worthy of  
  
their confidence. For the first time since news of his moving in had  
  
reached his ear, Bobby Drake thought of Logan as just another average  
  
guy, looking, as he said, for a place to hide, just like the rest of  
  
them. Unfortunately, for himself and the others around him, he  
  
couldn't be more wrong. 


	8. Chapter 8

"So?" Logan, despite his best efforts not to, made himself  
  
look over at the woman who was currently laying on her sleeping bag,  
  
head resting on hand, watching his every movement. He'd never had  
  
anyone so absorbed with him before, and while the thought was eery,  
  
it was also flattering as well.  
  
"So, what?" Stepping over her, he realized he was mentally  
  
cursing, yet again, how small this place really was. Enemies or not,  
  
he had to give the X-Men credit for putting up with each other as  
  
long as they had, without going mad. He wasn't a people person as it  
  
was, out in public where the nearest person might even be a good ten  
  
feet or so away. That being said, his confidence in his plan was  
  
slowly dwindling from admiration to a "Why the Hell did I want to do  
  
this to begin with?" kind of attitude.  
  
"You never answered my question." With an only slightly  
  
irritated grunt, Logan reached around her, grabbing hold of his small  
  
sack, purposely prolonging his answer. He knew precisely the question  
  
she was curious about, which in and of itself was amusing. Still, her  
  
constant questioning was slowly grating on whatever nerves he had  
  
left. He couldn't blame her entirely, of course, considering she  
  
hadn't seen the outside world in at least a year. Much had changed  
  
since then. Still...he wasn't some walking, talking newspaper, ready  
  
to spill his guts  
  
"You're gonna have to elaborate, kid." As she threw her hands  
  
into the air, letting out an only slightly over dramatic sigh, he  
  
caught himself grinning. It was just for a moment, mind you, and the  
  
moment he realized it he was quick enough to cough it away. Wondering  
  
where it had come from, he quickly labeled it as a result of the  
  
solitary confinement he was sharing with them in the little attic  
  
room.  
  
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Scoffing slightly, he moved to  
  
answer, before she wrinkled her nose in an afterthought. "And don't  
  
call me kid."  
  
"I call everyone kid. What makes you so special?" When she  
  
fell silent, lower lip slightly protruding, he stuffed the jeans he'd  
  
previously exchanged for sweats back into his bag before turning back  
  
to her. "Don't you think the term "girlfriend" is a little juvenile  
  
for a man my age?" Cocking an eyebrow in question, he let himself  
  
sink onto the sleeping bag, which rested on a floor so uncomfortable  
  
he knew he'd have a stiff back from this for weeks. Thankfully, Marie  
  
answered him before his mind could wander once again to admiration  
  
for the people who'd done this for a year.  
  
"Don't you think the title "kid" is a little juvenile for a  
  
woman of twenty three?"  
  
"Hm..." And, just for her benefit, he rubbed his chin a  
  
little and actually seemed to ponder the thought before very bluntly  
  
blurting out a "no," before laying back on the sleeping bag. One  
  
pillow not being enough, he folded his arms behind his head so he  
  
could keep an eye on Marie. She was attractive, there was no denying  
  
that. Logan knew himself well enough to realize that he had never  
  
once denied himself the pleasure of an attractive woman's company.  
  
Still, he'd never actually sat down and had a conversation with any,  
  
as he was with Marie. It was certainly a change from the lifestyle he  
  
knew.  
  
When Marie fell silent, asking no further questions, Logan  
  
grew a little apprehensive and realized maybe it was for the better.  
  
If she was thinking of questions for him, at least she was thinking  
  
out loud. When she studied him, as she was currently doing, he  
  
couldn't possibly know what was going through her head, and that made  
  
him uncomfortable. "No."  
  
"No, what?"  
  
"No, I haven't got a gir-A lover."  
  
"Really? Wow...I mean...I just thought...I expected..."  
  
Before she could continue attempting to form suitable commentary,  
  
Logan quickly sat himself up to set her straight.  
  
"That doesn't mean I'm some monk. I've had plenty of women."  
  
When he saw that he had her full attention, and that she believed  
  
every word, he allowed himself to sink back into a more relaxing  
  
position. "Just didn't feel like keeping them around long." The  
  
others present, Bobby especially, coughed some, no doubt in  
  
disagreement with his lifestyle. Insignificant action as it were, it  
  
brought back a flood of emotions that had been dormant during the  
  
previous hours. He remembered, so it seemed, for the first time in  
  
hours that these people weren't human. That they were mutants and  
  
that they needed to be taken care of before they took their feelings  
  
of supremacy a step further. Sure, he was no saint, but that was no  
  
reason to get all high and mighty.  
  
"Why not?" Turning his attention back to Marie, he partially  
  
tuned into the conversation he shared with her, all the while  
  
silently planning a sort of revenge, to put the others in their place.  
  
"Too much work." The instant Marie gasped and launched into a  
  
speech on relationships and loved, he turned his attention off  
  
completely, focusing instead on the other mutants present. Revenge  
  
was sweetest when it attacked what seemed to be the one thing  
  
everyone held dear. Looking around the room, he could tell instantly,  
  
from Bobby playing cards with Gambit, to Hank and Ororo curled up  
  
together, that the one thing everyone there relied on was  
  
camaraderie. Despite what fate hurled at them, they remained positive  
  
and hopeful because they had each other.  
  
He remembered Marie telling him, earlier, how the entire  
  
group never seemed to have any problems with one another. They hadn't  
  
actually had a real fight beyond who was the better football team, or  
  
other trivial matters. What Logan needed to do, then, to exact his  
  
payback right, was to focus on that. Throw a little tension into the  
  
pot and see just how well balanced and efficient the five of them  
  
lived together.  
  
"Logan? Logan!" The harsh whisper made him tune back into  
  
reality for a moment. Glancing at Marie, he raised an eyebrow.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I asked you a question."  
  
"Should I be surprised?" Though she tried hard to scowl at  
  
him, he caught quickly the faint grin that passed over her lips. When  
  
she did that, an idea began forming in the back of his mind. "What?"  
  
"Tell me something you know."  
  
"Like what?" She looked attractive while she thought, resting  
  
her chin in her hand, cocking her head to one side. A lock of white  
  
curls fell over her shoulders and cupped her cheek delicately. Times  
  
like these, he forgot they were on separate sides and let his eyes  
  
feast on the sight.  
  
"Hm..." Her thinking allowed him a moment's peace to try and  
  
come up with the point of the small spark of thought that had ignited  
  
moments earlier. "Tell me something real. That no one else knows  
  
about you." For this answer, she found it necessary to move toward  
  
him, leaving only about an inch of space between the two of them.  
  
Logan caught sight of Drake's face just then, and a mix of anger and  
  
concern flitted over his features. When he caught the others turn  
  
their heads abruptly away when he glanced at them, he realized what  
  
his mind had been trying to tell him.  
  
Marie. His key to hurting them the most was Marie. She seemed  
  
the baby of the group in many regards. The one the others thought it  
  
best to protect. She stated she wasn't a kid, while in fact the  
  
others must obviously think of her as such. Her disgust in the phrase  
  
only proved that. And so, all he had to do was get her to act like  
  
the woman she was, do something he knew the others would strongly  
  
disapprove of, then sit back and watch the sparks fly. And he knew  
  
exactly how to do it.  
  
"I know you want me." 


	9. Chapter 9

Bobby moaned slightly at the banging that aroused him the next  
  
morning. Generally, Arnold Frank knocked lightly, needing to be as  
  
quiet as possible to keep from attracting unwanted attention.  
  
Pulling himself first into a sitting position, Bobby rubbed  
  
his face, trying to coax his mind from the lazy blanket of sleep-  
  
induced weariness that momentarily overtook him. Peering momentarily  
  
down the opening to the food storage, he saw Hank, already wide away,  
  
whistling quietly and scribbling away as usual in his notebook.  
  
Still, despite the usual air of cheerfulness, something was different  
  
about him.  
  
Tugging on a comfortable shirt and warm pair of pants (though  
  
warmth was not nearly as necessary as comfort) he moved quickly down  
  
the ladder and sat beside his blue, hairy friend. "What's made you so  
  
happy, Hankster?" Reaching in the direction of his long time comrade  
  
and teammate, Bobby snatched the remaining Twinkie from the otherwise  
  
empty bowl, flashed a triumphant smile at all who were watching, and  
  
began to work on removing the wrapper.  
  
"Well, I was going to tell you...but now that you've taken  
  
the remaining sugary treat, I'm afraid I've not the  
  
strength to do so." Flashing Bobby an equally triumphant smile, he  
  
ducked his head again, with the intention to remain silent and keep  
  
any and all secrets that might be floating about in his head to  
  
himself.  
  
Bobby Drake, having lacked anything remotely resembling a  
  
gossip session, while thoroughly having been filled with Twinkies for  
  
weeks, quickly made a show of sighing and mumbling to himself before  
  
ultimately sacrificing the treat to his friend. "My thanks, Iceman. I  
  
seem to have consummated the ingestion of my entire supply."  
  
"No problem." Taking instead a few pieces of fruit, Bobby  
  
instead entertained himself by pretending he was talented in the area  
  
of juggling. After being hit several times in the head by stray  
  
apples, (not to mention hitting several other passersby as well) he  
  
reluctantly gave up this act and instead drew his knees to his chest  
  
before inquiring as to what made Hank so happy that particular  
  
morning.  
  
"Why, Mr.Drake I assure you I'm equally as happy every day."  
  
Frankly, Bobby would have actually believed that, were it not for the  
  
sideways glance at Ororo, followed by the brief quirking of both  
  
pairs of lips and a knowing glance that made Bobby altogether very  
  
unhappy at being kept in the dark. And so, as leader of the X-Men, he  
  
did the mature thing.  
  
He whined. "Come ON Hank! You used to tell me everything!"  
  
When his furry friend continued scribbling, Bobby folded his arms  
  
across his chest and slumped slightly against the wall, trying to  
  
think of a way to trick him into telling. Of course, when one was a  
  
genius, tricking them was a slightly difficult task. "I'm the leader  
  
of the X-Men here...can't I...y'know...demand that you tell me or  
  
something?" He must have looked ridiculous, though he was trying for  
  
commanding and intimidating, as Ororo and Hank both burst into  
  
laughter at the sight of him.  
  
Blushing sheepishly, he ducked his head and gave up his quest  
  
for the secret. Luckily, his friends had only been out to get a rise  
  
out of him. "My apologies, Robert. I intended only to get you to  
  
loosen up slightly. You've been far too serious these past few days."  
  
"Yeah..." Just thinking about Marie being with Logan was  
  
enough to make his stomach lurch. Still, after many an argument, he'd  
  
given up on the issue, and decided to let Marie ride this out. It was  
  
just a phase, of course, and once the war ended, or the appeal was  
  
lost, she would return to her old self. "So...?"  
  
"So..." Bobby watched as Hank lifted his head to gaze at  
  
Ororo a moment. She gave a brief nod of her head and returned his  
  
large smile, before taking his hand.  
  
"Robert...Hank and I have...decided to get married." A moment  
  
later, when realization hit, Hank had to forcibly lift Bobby's jaw  
  
off the ground. He knew the two cared for each other deeply, but he  
  
would never have guessed...  
  
"Married...? Hank...'Ro...that's...that's great! I don't know  
  
what to say..." He was stunned. Ororo and Hank simply smiled back at  
  
him and hugged him and shook his hand. "This is really, really  
  
great..."  
  
"We fully intend to wait til the war is over...let life begin  
  
to fall back into routine before attempting such a feat. Still, I-"  
  
Dr.Henry McCoy was interrupted mid-speech as Marie, eyes wild with  
  
fear, burst into the room.  
  
Everyone stood to their feet, Bobby rushing over quickly to  
  
help her when she appeared to lose the ability to stand on her own.  
  
While she caught her breath and fought oncoming tears, Bobby looked  
  
around for any imminent threat before looking at his other, equally  
  
puzzled, friends. "Marie...what's the problem? What's happened?"  
  
Turning her head to look at him face to face, she managed to  
  
appear brave and controlled enough to spit out the news. "It's Logan.  
  
He's gone."  
  
Silence reigned for several moments, while the news and the  
  
effects of this new sunk in. They were in grave danger, now that one  
  
of them had been inside, knew how to manuever around this place, and  
  
was gone. Bobby cursed himself repeatedly for ever thinking it was  
  
possible to trust a man like that. He knew from the start that he was  
  
wrong in doing so, and felt the crushing effects of guilt, because he  
  
knew what may follow suite. "It gets worse..."  
  
Bobby pulled Marie into a tight hug, while Gambit shook his  
  
head and took his aggressions out on the nearest available object. It  
  
shattered in a burst of red light, leaving nothing but the charred  
  
remains of a pot in its wake.  
  
Below, glass windows began to shake and soon shatter, and  
  
while the five friends huddled together and attempted to plan any way  
  
of survival, loud, heavy footsteps noisily ascended the staircase,  
  
while angry shouts and orders were spat in every direction.  
  
Soon after, with no where to go, the remaining X-Men each  
  
said a silent prayer before turning, wide-eyed, to watch the door.  
  
Hank kept a hand on Ororo's shoulder, whilst Gambit pulled Marie  
  
behind himself and Bobby. Bobby, who stood, head hanging, stewing in  
  
the realization that their downfall was his fault. He had failed, as  
  
a leader and as a friend, to do the one thing Scott Summers had asked  
  
of him. Not only had he brought them to this...he had let down  
  
Xavier, the other X-Men that had died before them, and the cause that  
  
they had all promised to defend til the bitter end. Clenching his  
  
hands into fists, he realized that he was never going to amount to  
  
anything but a failure. Now his friends, those standing beside him,  
  
would see it as clearly as he had every day of his life.  
  
The door burst open a moment later and a flood of American  
  
soldiers in all shapes and sizes flooded into the attic rooms, aiming  
  
every weapon known to man at them. "X-Men," a loud voice boomed,  
  
laced with bitter hatred and smug triumph. "You are under arrest.  
  
It's over." 


	10. Chapter 10

Bobby moaned slightly at the banging that aroused him the next  
  
morning. Generally, Arnold Frank knocked lightly, needing to be as  
  
quiet as possible to keep from attracting unwanted attention.  
  
Pulling himself first into a sitting position, Bobby rubbed  
  
his face, trying to coax his mind from the lazy blanket of sleep  
  
induced weariness that momentarily overtook him. Peering momentarily  
  
down the opening to the food storage, he saw Hank, already wide away,  
  
whistling quietly and scribbling away as usual in his notebook.  
  
Still, despite the usual air of cheerfulness, something was different  
  
about him.  
  
Tugging on a comfortable shirt and warm pair of pants (though  
  
warmth was not nearly as necessary as comfort) he moved quickly down  
  
the ladder and sat beside his blue, hairy friend. "What's made you so  
  
happy, Hankster?" Reaching in the direction of his long time comrade  
  
and teammate, Bobby snatched the remaining Twinkie from the otherwise  
  
empty bowl, flashed a triumphant smile at all who were watching, and  
  
began to work on removing the wrapper.  
  
"Well, I was going to tell you...but now that you've taken  
  
the remaining chocolatey, sugary treat, I'm afraid I've not the  
  
strength to do so." Flashing Bobby an equally triumphant smile, he  
  
ducked his head again, with the intention to remain silent and keep  
  
any and all secrets that might be floating about in his head to  
  
himself.  
  
Bobby Drake, having lacked anything remotely resembling a  
  
gossip session, while thoroughly having been filled with Twinkies for  
  
weeks, quickly made a show of sighing and mumbling to himself before  
  
ultimately sacrificing the treat to his friend. "My thanks, Iceman. I  
  
seem to have consummated the ingestion of my entire supply."  
  
"No problem." Taking instead a few pieces of fruit, Bobby  
  
instead entertained himself by pretending he was talented in the area  
  
of juggling. After being hit several times in the head by stray  
  
apples, (not to mention hitting several other passerbys as well) he  
  
reluctantly gave up this act and instead drew his knees to his chest  
  
before inquiring as to what made Hank so happy that particular  
  
morning.  
  
"Why, Mr.Drake I assure you I'm equally as happy every day."  
  
Frankly, Bobby would have actually believed that, were it not for the  
  
sideways glance at Ororo, followed by the brief quirking of both  
  
pairs of lips and a knowing glance that made Bobby altogether very  
  
unhappy at being kept in the dark. And so, as leader of the X-Men, he  
  
did the mature thing.  
  
He whined. "Come ON Hank! You used to tell me everything!"  
  
When his furry friend continued scribbling, Bobby folded his arms  
  
across his chest and slumped slightly against the wall, trying to  
  
think of a way to trick him into telling. Of course, when one was a  
  
genius, tricking them was a slightly difficult task. "I'm the leader  
  
of the X-Men here...can't I...y'know...demand that you tell me or  
  
something?" He must have looked ridiculous, though he was trying for  
  
commanding and intimidating, as Ororo and Hank both burst into  
  
laughter at the sight of him.  
  
Blushing sheepishly, he ducked his head and gave up his quest  
  
for the secret. Luckily, his friends had only been out to get a rise  
  
out of him. "My apologies, Robert. I intended only to get you to  
  
loosen up slightly. You've been far too serious these past few days."  
  
"Yeah..." Just thinking about Marie being with Logan was  
  
enough to make his stomach lurch. Still, after many an argument, he'd  
  
given up on the issue, and decided to let Marie ride this out. It was  
  
just a phase, of course, and once the war ended, or the appeal was  
  
lost, she would return to her old self. "So...?"  
  
"So..." Bobby watched as Hank lifted his head to gaze at  
  
Ororo a moment. She gave a brief nod of her head and returned his  
  
large smile, before taking his hand.  
  
"Robert...Hank and I have...decided to get married." A moment  
  
later, when realization hit, Hank had to forcibly lift Bobby's jaw  
  
off the ground. He knew the two cared for each other deeply, but he  
  
would never have guessed...  
  
"Married...? Hank...'Ro...that's...that's great! I don't know  
  
what to say..." He was stunned. Ororo and Hank simply smiled back at  
  
him and hugged him and shook his hand. "This is really, really  
  
great..."  
  
"We fully intend to wait til the war is over...let life begin  
  
to fall back into routine before attempting such a feat. Still, I-"  
  
Dr.Henry McCoy was interrupted mid-speech as Marie, eyes wild with  
  
fear, burst into the room.  
  
Everyone stood to their feet, Bobby rushing over quickly to  
  
help her when she appeared to lose the ability to stand on her own.  
  
While she caught her breath and fought oncoming tears, Bobby looked  
  
around for any imminent threat before looking at his other, equally  
  
puzzled, friends. "Marie...what's the problem? What's happened?"  
  
Turning her head to look at him face to face, she managed to  
  
appear brave and controlled enough to spit out the news. "It's Logan.  
  
He's gone."  
  
Silence reigned for several moments, while the news and the  
  
effects of this new sunk in. They were in grave danger, now that one  
  
of them had been inside, knew how to maneuver around this place, and  
  
was gone. Bobby cursed himself repeatedly forever thinking it was  
  
possible to trust a man like that. He knew from the start that he was  
  
wrong in doing so, and felt the crushing effects of guilt, because he  
  
knew what may follow suite. "It gets worse..."  
  
Bobby pulled Marie into a tight hug, while Gambit shook his  
  
head and took his aggressions out on the nearest available object. It  
  
shattered in a burst of red light, leaving nothing but the charred  
  
remains of a pot in its wake.  
  
Below, glass windows began to shake and soon shatter, and  
  
while the five friends huddled together and attempted to plan any way  
  
of survival, loud, heavy footsteps noisily ascended the staircase,  
  
while angry shouts and orders were spat in every direction.  
  
Soon after, with no where to go, the remaining X-Men each  
  
said a silent prayer before turning, wide-eyed, to watch the door.  
  
Hank kept a hand on Ororo's shoulder, whilst Gambit pulled Marie  
  
behind himself and Bobby. Bobby stood, head hanging, stewing in  
  
the realization that their downfall was his fault. He had failed, as  
  
a leader and as a friend, to do the one thing Scott Summers had asked  
  
of him. Not only had he brought them to this...he had let down  
  
Xavier, the other X-Men that had died before them, and the cause that  
  
they had all promised to defend til the bitter end. Clenching his  
  
hands into fists, he realized that he was never going to amount to  
  
anything but a failure. Now his friends, those standing beside him,  
  
would see it as clearly as he had every day of his life.  
  
The door burst open a moment later and a flood of American  
  
soldiers in all shapes and sizes flooded into the attic rooms, aiming  
  
every weapon known to man at them. "X-Men," a loud voice boomed,  
  
laced with bitter hatred and smug triumph. "You are under arrest.  
  
It's over." 


	11. Chapter 11

They were tired. In the end, when Bobby really let himself think back to their arrest, he realized it was just internal exhaustion that  
  
defeated them. It couldn't have been anything else, for usually,  
  
human weapons could not contend with the mutant powers imbedded deep  
  
within them, nor the training maneuvers, which still managed to  
  
resurface whenever the X-Men needed them. No, their failure was not  
  
due to lack of skill. What it all came down to was that the X-Men  
  
lacked the heart necessary to succeed, Their souls were weary from  
  
the last year of harsh oppression and cramped conditions and frankly,  
  
he couldn't blame them.  
  
Standing out in the rain, feet sinking so into the mud that  
  
it now reached his ankles, Bobby looked at the large crowd assembled  
  
at the train station, searching for a familiar face among them. He  
  
was, of course, not surprised when every face he peered into, every  
  
pair of eyes that caught his gaze, were foreign to him. They had seen  
  
to it, successfully, that the X-Men be separated to the best of their  
  
ability.  
  
Alone, Bobby Drake was offered a silence so strong it bore  
  
down upon his shoulders and added only in increasing his misery. All  
  
this was his fault, of course. It was always the fault of the leader,  
  
just as any death of a sheep lays on the shepherd's shoulders. As  
  
usual, he let his heart speak louder than logic, and was now paying  
  
the consequences. Mostly, though, he beat himself down over the fact  
  
that Logan's betrayl should have been so obvious to him, to all of  
  
them!  
  
"Back in line!" The harsh cry drew him from his thoughts in  
  
time to catch a small form that was practically thrown at his feet.  
  
"You fiends!" And though she opened her mouth to argue  
  
further, it seemed as though something caught her attention and  
  
turned her away from the idea. Instead, she worked to steady herself  
  
and thereby free her from his hold. "Thank you..." The frail form  
  
turned slowly to look upon her saviour, and he was met with a pair of  
  
hazel eyes that seemed to burn with anger and misery all at once. The  
  
only other pair of eyes he had seen that resembled them were Marie's,  
  
so filled with emotions he thought they should be overflowing.  
  
"It was nothing..." Quirking a small smile, all he had left  
  
in him, Bobby made sure she had fully steadied herself before  
  
releasing his grasp. Seeing her shiver under the cold droplets, he,  
  
always the gentleman, removed his coat and draped it around her  
  
shoulders. She began to argue, when he shook his head slightly,  
  
causing her to fall silent. One tiny hand slipped out to hold the  
  
coat in place, while the other rested lightly atop a protruding  
  
stomach. Such a sight surprised him, considering she looked to be as  
  
old as, if not younger than himself.  
  
When he looked up from her stomach, he caught her watching  
  
him, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. "It's not what you think..." It  
  
took him a moment to catch her meaning. She glanced down at her  
  
clothes, nothing more than rags due to the poor conditions of the  
  
holding cells everyone was kept in. Her legs, covered onto to her  
  
knees with a skirt, were bruised and filthy.  
  
"Oh! No, I didn't think...I mean..." And she laughed then,  
  
which caused him to laugh, despite the fact that anyone in their  
  
present condition could clearly see that there was no humor in any of  
  
it. Several people, in fact, turned to shoot them glares, tears  
  
streaming down their cheeks. He felt himself stop immediately, and  
  
watched the woman before him duck her head, almost ashamed. "I'm  
  
Bobby..."  
  
"Drake. Yes, I know." When he looked surprised, she smiled,  
  
eyes brimming, dirty locks of hair falling over her eyes. "Everyone  
  
knows you, here. The X-Men are all legends here...our supposed  
  
saviours from this nightmare." Her words pierced his heart,  
  
remembering how many people out there were looking to himself and his  
  
friends to pull them from the mess their own home had created for  
  
them. They were called heroes, by others and by themselves, yet in  
  
the moment of truth, they couldn't even provide hope and relief for  
  
the five of them, let alone a hurting nation. "Sometimes...people  
  
forget that heroes, behind the masks and costumes, are just as much  
  
human as everyone else."  
  
Grateful for her kind words, he moved to answer, when loud  
  
voices boomed above the PA system. Though everything in him strained  
  
to hear the words coming out, the hustle and terror that ran through  
  
the crowds made everyone shriek with panic and drowned out any  
  
instructions given to them. He knew only what those in control wanted  
  
when people began to push from behind, and upfront, reluctant mutants  
  
were being dragged to various box cars that looked fit for cattle, if  
  
even that. Bobby wondered why the mutants didn't fight back, and, as  
  
though reading his mind, the woman before him answered the unspoken  
  
question. "We were all injected with a small computer chip...it  
  
cancels out our mutation. We can't fight back..."  
  
When those behind him forcefully shoved him forward, Bobby  
  
quickly took hold of her hand without really thinking. When she  
  
looked slightly puzzled and surprised, he shrugged his shoulders  
  
some. "We're in this together now, all right?" He could see the  
  
confusion scan over her features before she quickly nodded in  
  
response and moved forward with him.  
  
Despite their known cruelty, those loading the cars didn't  
  
separate them as they almost expected. Bobby got onto the car first,  
  
leaning over to pick her up and pull her in. She smiled in thanks,  
  
gripping his arm tightly without realizing it, as they moved into the  
  
corner to allow room for the others. "Easy, now..." Slowly, he helped  
  
ease her into a comfortable sitting position before joining her on  
  
the floor. The entire car reeked of things Bobby didn't even want to  
  
think about. Instead, he turned his attention to the door, haunted  
  
eyes watching every new prisoner enter.  
  
At last, the car was filled to a point where another form  
  
would have made the frame burst. As it were, neither he nor his  
  
companion could move their arms or legs without hitting someone else.  
  
Even breathing seemed impossible, due both to the cramped spaces as  
  
well as the wretched smell that seeped into every pore of him, making  
  
him feel even more dirty than he had been exiting the holding  
  
cells. "I'm Jenn, by the way." The tiny whisper she spoke in came as  
  
a surprise to him, considering the strength of emotion he'd heard  
  
through her words the last time she addressed him.  
  
Despite the protests of those around him, Bobby pulled his  
  
arm free from his side and wrapped it about her shaking shoulders,  
  
drawing her closer to him. "Don't worry, Jenn...the two of us are  
  
going to make it. I promise." And he meant it, knowing he would do  
  
anything to keep that promise. It felt like he'd been offered another  
  
chance to do that which he had failed at the first time, and he'd be  
  
damned if he didn't come through for her, as he should have for the  
  
others. "Just rest easy..." Continuing the whispered, comforting  
  
mantra, he stroked her arm slightly, thinking ahead to the horrors  
  
that awaited them at their upcoming destination. 


	12. Chapter 12

Marie wasn't sure what made her more nauseous; the stench radiating from unwashed prisoners surrounding her, or the ever present reality that Logan, the man she loved, had abandoned her and her  
  
friends...fed them to the dogs!  
  
His betrayal had severely altered the way Marie saw people.  
  
Until that point, she had, despite the mutant holocaust ruling her  
  
life, found people to be generally good. A few small, inconsequential  
  
pieces of information given to the public by an influential man in  
  
time of need was bound to result in the swaying of their feelings  
  
toward their mutant brethren. Masses had, since the dawn of time,  
  
been seen as fickle groupings, ready to turn at the blink of an eye.  
  
Wrapping her arms around her knees, Marie rested her chin on  
  
them, attempting to look around the crowded box-car. There was no  
  
light, save that which streamed through the roof through several tiny  
  
slits. They served onto to provide enough ventilation to keep those  
  
inside alive, and in several instances, they even failed at that.  
  
At night, the darkness spilled in, covering everyone in a  
  
thick cloud of black, so that if it weren't for the moaning agony  
  
around her, she would think herself alone in this trechery. She tried  
  
to keep her mind on more happy thoughts, straying as far from the  
  
realization that she could well be dead come the end of the week as  
  
humanly possible. Instead, she thought back to a time when all the X-  
  
Men remained. Days when nothing threatened the world, and they were  
  
free to lounge around the Mansion, often playing baseball, having  
  
picnics, or just sitting alone in silence, reveling in the peace that  
  
momentarily reigned over their lives.  
  
Inevitably, however, her memories forced her back to the day  
  
Logan left them. She'd woken up early and found the heat that was  
  
usually against her missing. She thought she'd heard a door close,  
  
but even now she wasn't sure if that was just her imagination. In the  
  
end, she'd searched the entire area several times, not truly  
  
believing that he would have just left. Still, there were only so  
  
many places he could have been, and when he didn't turn up in any of  
  
them, the truth had hit her hard.  
  
The look on Bobby's face as she told the others was heartbreaking. He  
  
had, as the leader, taken the responsibility onto his shoulders,  
  
despite the fact that it was her urging that had caused him to give  
  
in to allow Logan entrance into their safe haven. Somewhere, she  
  
thought that, even if he were against them, their hospitality and  
  
sense of family would affect him in some way. In the end, she made  
  
them look like fools.  
  
When they were dragged out into the streets, the thought of  
  
escape had reached her mind at some point. An instant later, however,  
  
she thought about the past year, the countless weeks of hiding away  
  
in the attic. And despite knowing the horrors those captured faced,  
  
it suddenly seemed better than escaping and being on the run again.  
  
Knowing that no matter where you went, someone was close behind you,  
  
watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up. She wanted to  
  
be able to move without fearing that a board would creak and someone  
  
would hear it and report her...  
  
Logan was there when they were herded into a transport truck.  
  
He was standing, hood pulled over his face to hide his presence to  
  
them. Still, she'd spent enough time with him to know when he was  
  
near. She had chanced a look at him for a moment, but he turned his  
  
head away as though ashamed with himself for having done this to them.  
  
Arnold Frank was separated from the X-Men. Marie didn't have  
  
to wonder what happened to him...it was a known fact that anyone  
  
housing a non-registered mutant was automatically charged with death  
  
upon their arrest. For that reason, she kept her eyes on her feet as  
  
they drove him away.  
  
  
  
It all seemed like an eternity ago and, she thought, maybe it  
  
was. Another lifetime ago, far from the one she was now faced with  
  
having to live. Despite her condition, being locked away like an  
  
animal, a faint chuckle rang through her as she wondered what Logan  
  
was doing at that moment. She still cared about him, of course, even  
  
though he'd thrown her to the wolves in a fit of self-pity. Her  
  
laugh, growing louder by the moment, made her wonder if several days  
  
in a cell with strangers, given only her future to contemplate, had  
  
driven her to mad extremes.  
  
A rough jab to her ribs finally made her fall silent.  
  
Clutching her hands together tightly, she looked up at the roof of  
  
the boxcar and, closing her eyes, prayed to God that her friends  
  
would survive this. For if they didn't and she herself did, their  
  
blood would rest forever on her hands...a fate even the strongest of  
  
men couldn't handle guiltlessly. 


End file.
